Napoleon Bonaparte happened to meet the famous 20th-century newsman Edward R. Murrow on the street late one night. The two men stopped on the concrete walk and appraised each other for a moment.
“I
know you,” Napoleon announced after a moment. “You are that big-time news guy.”
“Murrow.
Edward R.,” the newsman responded. “The R is important to me.”
“Yeah?
What makes the R so important?”
“It
has legs: literally and figuratively.”
“Okay,
I accept that. The R appears to have stuck in your case. But I have a beef. Not
about my name. My name is cool,” Napoleon stuffed his hand into his waistcoat
as always depicted in pictures. “My beef is: why does everyone insist I was a
short emperor? I am five-six. That’s pretty much average for a 19th-century
Frenchman.”
Edward
R. Murrow considered for a moment. “Maybe if you had gone by Napoleon R. Bonaparte, people would not have had the will to speculate on your stature.”
“You
think? Just adding an R would have made a difference?”
“I
do.”
“Alrighty,
then. I am on my way again, Edward R. Murrow.” With that, Napoleon strode down
the street again, his hand still stuffed in his shirt.
“Goodnight
and good luck,” Murrow called out as Napoleon walked away.
—Mitchell
Hegman
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